


a kiss without a fist is better than none

by edgaristheoneinthehole



Category: Ultimate Spider-Man (Cartoon)
Genre: Leader Angst, Leader Problems, Leadership, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Peter Parker Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-13
Updated: 2015-06-13
Packaged: 2018-04-04 05:02:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4126338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/edgaristheoneinthehole/pseuds/edgaristheoneinthehole
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Heroes aren’t fearless.<br/>Heroes are brave,<br/>bravery requires fear,<br/>and fear is born of loving something enough that its loss would break you.”<br/>— <a href="http://wnq-writers.com/post/111234688670/quotes-creative-writing-original-poetry-heroes-arent">wordsbyjm</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	a kiss without a fist is better than none

**Author's Note:**

> i watched the gotg episode a few days ago and (after forcing one of my friends to watch it and talking to another one of my friends who'd seen the episode in the past), we agreed that nova should absolutely get punched in the face. this doesnt happen in this fic bc both pete and i love sam too much and forgive him wayyy too easily. unfortunately.

At the time, going to bed seemed like a great idea. Not dealing with the speech he’d have to make to Fury seemed like  _the best_  idea. Fury, being Fury, would probably ask Peter if he’d pushed Sam in the direction of joining the Guardians like it had been all Pete’s fault, like always (and it never was!). (Usually.) (Mostly.) (Sometimes.)

He’d be all like, “Peter! How could you let this happen! We’ll have to get Deadpool to join this team now!” and Deadpool would probably hit (on) Peter. Ava, Danny and Luke would decide they wanted Deadpool to be their new team leader and the Hulk would show up, wrecking the city-- okay, that was a slight exaggeration. Just slight. But if Tony showed even the  _slightest_  fondness towards Deadpool, Peter would lose it.  _Anyone_  but Tony.

So Peter slept for all of thirty minutes that whole night -- the first thirty minutes, in fact -- because he woke up to the sound of Fury yelling at him for ruining the team every time he tried.

It wasn’t that he  _blamed_  Sam for wanting to leave, The Guardians seemed cool and powerful and everything Peter’s team  _wasn’t_ (as much as Peter didn’t want to admit it because, damn it, his team was just as good as the rest). They’d be able to teach Sam to be better at using his powers and protect him easier than Peter (it wasn’t that Sam was on any special level with that thought, Peter would forever protect his team in any way he could, would forever train harder and harder because of his mistakes -- not his team’s, he’d never blame his team for not being there fast enough, never being good enough, because Peter had read all of those books on strategy and leading Coulson had given him and one of the things from them that he remembered with sharp clarity was that any mistake of a team member was that of the team leader’s, the team was only ever as good as the leader, every mistake was Peter’s and Peter’s  _only_ ) ever could.

And Peter’d almost lost Sam forever. Not in a,  _well, I guess I’m leaving now because I have a better family elsewhere_  way, but in a unalive-- uh,  _dead_  way. (But, seriously, fuck Deadpool. And his weird not-come-ons. How many times can a person start a pick-up line before stopping and muttering stuff about ratings? Like, way to give mixed signals to a guy, sheesh.) And the people who believed in him to survive, to do good, to succeed? Hadn’t included Peter, his supposed team leader. No, it’d been the Guardians, who loved Sam as dearly as Sam did them so, when Sam said he’d stay with his family, Peter accepted it. He’d be happy, safe and loved. What more could Peter ask? The team wouldn’t last more than a year anyway, Danny would leave, they’d all go their own ways (Peter back to his solo act, Luke and Ava probably moving on to another team to learn more, to experience more) and Peter would rather he didn’t see Sam trying to argue about the team staying together, as that was the type of person Sam  _was_.

So Peter wrote several speeches, all for different reactions Fury might show (anger, happiness, content, annoyance, sadness, blank-faced information seeking -- which totally counted as an emotion for Nick Fury) all night, too emotionally exhausted to even think of just calling Fury then to let him know, explain later, when he felt emotionally stable enough.

Morning came, so did the daily team meeting and Peter braced himself for his team’s reactions.

Except… Nova showed up. And everything inside Peter’s brain meshed together.

 

* * *

 

He didn’t know if it was possible to mourn someone in one night, but Peter was all too certain that he had in fact been mourning Sam’s leaving with the speeches he’d written. He’d accepted that he wouldn’t see Sam in a long time, Sam’d be too busy being happy with his family, he’d been fine with that, but then Sam showed up, not a single sorry uttered, and acted like he always had, as if he didn’t know that the Peter insides suddenly felt too raw, like someone had vindictively cut with a dull knife all the stitches Peter’d spent all that time on.

And Peter understood why the others didn’t feel as hurt as Peter did,  they hadn’t mourned, they hadn’t been there, thinking that they were holding Sam’s dead body in their hands, they didn’t…

Fuck, Peter’d only ever been this angry once in his life and that’d been towards the guy who  _killed his uncle_. It wasn’t that Peter  _blamed_ … oh, who was he kidding, Peter wanted to punch Sam’s face in. Peter could be the team leader while being angry at one of his members, Peter was certain, so he’d just wait until the anger lessened and he wanted to punch someone (hint: it started with an S, ended with an M and had an A in the middle) less.

“You guys do,” he waved his hands around, not even trying to articulate himself, “whatever. I’m taking some  _me time_.”

“Does that include not doing patrol?” Nova asked with the same sort of eagerness he used for the question every time, like nothing was different and Peter’s  ~~heart~~  head hurt.

“Yeah, Nova,” Peter said, “do whatever you want.” He didn’t stick around to look at his team’s faces, web-slinging away, because he was certain they’d all be surprised, maybe even judging, as Peter never agreed with Sam on that question.

 

* * *

 

“Hey, MJ,” Peter started saying into the phone that day during lunch, but paused, catching sight of Sam’s head moving around, most likely confused at Peter not sitting at his table.

“Yes, Peter?” MJ sighed softly, a gush a wind blowing into the receiver, “are you two fighting again?”

Peter hesitated, ducking before Sam could notice him, “Well, not exactly.”

“And that means?”

Before Peter could answer however, Harry sat down in the seat next to Peter loudly enough to draw Sam’s attention to them. Damn it. Harry, what a traitor.

“Gotta go, Mary-Jane,” Peter rushed out, making certain to look around him for possible exits, in case Sam decided it was a good idea to join them. He ended the call and turned his attention to his best friend, who appeared to be in a worse mood than even Peter was.

“Why do you always do this,” Harry groaned out, “every time you’re upset at him, I have to find you in this packed cafeteria. It happens thrice a week, Peter,  _thrice_.”

Peter frowned (fondly? was it possible to frown fondly?), “Excuse you, thrice a  _month_.”

“Anyway,” Harry looked at Peter earnestly, like the  ~~awful~~  caring human being he was, “what’s he done this time?”

“Y’know, most people assume  _I’ve_  done something wrong.”

Harry waved a hand around casually, “I’m your best friend. If you’d done something wrong, you’d be moping more. This is the patented  _I’m angry but I’m too good of a person to act on it_  Peter Parker mood.”

Peter smiled into his sandwich, glad to have Harry in his life for the thousandth of time (this week!). Harry knocked their shoulders together, quietly asking, “So, talk?”

Peter would have said no if it’d been anyone else, would have felt like it wouldn’t have been their place, but it was  _Harry_. Harry, who didn’t demand and, Peter knew from past experience, would drop it immediately if Peter asked. Peter could never have asked for a better best friend, couldn't even  _imagine_  one.

“He told me he was leaving,” he rushed out, scared that he’d stop and never speak again. “I didn’t even know about the people who he was planning on leaving with because I didn’t pay attention to what he talked about all the time, according to the others.”

Harry’s expression hadn’t changed and Peter suddenly  _wanted_  him to understand, wanted him to understand Peter’s struggles to be the best leader he could be, wanted him to understand Peter’s constant struggle to help the people he’d promised to help, the people who trusted him and he couldn’t do anything about not coming through because he wasn’t  _good enough_ , wanted Harry to look at him understandingly as Peter told him that sometimes he didn’t even know what uncle Ben would have wanted, how he felt the weight of his decisions and his  _team’s_  decisions on his shoulders all the time.

So Peter plowed on through, repeating everything that’d been stuck in his head since Sam’s departure, repeated how he’d mourned, how he couldn’t sleep, repeated that he’d been fine with Sam’s decision, repeated how he just wanted to…

Honestly, he wanted to lots of things, he wanted to scream, to punch Sam in the face, to kiss that stupid face because, sure, he was angry and his insides  _still_ felt too raw, but he was also relived. Relieved that his team was staying together, that Sam was staying, that he wouldn't have to deal with Fury.

And Harry listened like he’d always done, even  _before_  they were friends. Listened because that was the type of person Harry was and Peter didn’t  _deserve_  him.

“So, uh, yeah,” Peter winded down and had to pause for a second, trying to remember if he’d outed himself as Spider-Man in the middle of the rant somewhere but decided from Harry’s expression that he had not, in fact, come out as Spider-Man. Just… came out. (Heh.)

“I’ll be honest, Pete,” Harry blinked, “I was expecting you to say that you finally kissed him. And he, in his infinite wisdom, didn’t kiss you back.”

Well, that reaction was better than the worst case scenario. (“You’re Spider-Man? Get out of my sight!” or something else out of Peter’s nightmares.)

 

* * *

 

In the end Harry’s advice wasn’t that good, as he’d just told Peter to talk it out with Sam, which led to Peter telling him that, yeah, no, not happening, he’d just punch him and no one wanted that to happen, least of all Peter. Harry had shrugged, saying that Peter had always enjoyed the hard road to things and had to leave for his class, leaving Peter alone in the wrong side of the school for his next class, making him late. It didn’t really matter, as Peter still got to class before the test started but he apparently missed the revision part.

Man, Peter was really off his groove, he was half-certain he could make a joke out of some part of that sentence but he really didn’t know what it  _was_.

“Pete,” Sam whispered. It was extremely loud because they sat on the opposite sides of the class from each other and Peter really didn’t get Sam sometimes. Cheating off Ava, who sat next to Sam, would have been way easier.

Looking at the ceiling in the universal  _why me?_  gesture, Peter looked at the teacher, who shrugged at him and Peter sighed, whispering back, “What?” He felt ridiculous.

“What’s your next class?” oh, why him? What had Peter done  _wrong_  in life?

“Not one you’re sharing with me.”

Peter wasn’t really looking in Sam’s direction but he was 100% certain Sam was squinting at him, “You know my schedule?”

“Yes, I also know Ava, Luke, Danny, MJ and Harry’s, can I get  _back_  to this test now?” the team’s schedules Peter had to memorise, Coulson made a training regime where robots attacked him when he hesitated or said it wrong. MJ and Harry, he just learnt by himself because they  _mattered_. The team wasn’t more important than MJ and Harry, they all got the same amount of love and respect, that was just how the world worked.

“Oh, right,” Sam coughed, clearly realising how loud they’d been. Ava made an annoyed sound and Peter was pretty certain hit Sam’s leg with a lot of force, according to the grunt that followed.

 

* * *

 

Sam showed up after patrol outside Peter’s house a few days later, knocking on the door like the  _polite young man_  Peter’s neighbors claimed him to be. Before the Guardians, he’d just walk in, announcing his presence and jumping on top of Peter, if the latter happened to be laying on the sofa (which was usually). At least he _acknowledged_  that things were different now, even if he still wouldn’t apologise.

“Hi,” Sam smiled, cocky and big (don’t think about it, don’t think about it, don’t think about it,  _damn it_ , he thought about it) like usual and Peter wondered if he would have forgiven Sam easier or not if he didn’t have romantic emotions thrown into the mix. Decided that he wouldn’t have and let Sam in, if only because Aunt May missed her friend and Peter would do anything for Aunt May. (And slightly because Peter’d always given in to people he loved easily.)

“So,“ Sam said, completely at ease, “want to finish that game?”

Peter changed his mind, he didn’t want to do this, he didn’t want reminders that Sam’d almost died, had let Peter mourn his loss, let any of it happen. “Y’know what?” Peter opened the door again, almost tempted to push Sam outside but remembered Aunt May, who was watching TV, oblivious, “why don’t you play it with Aunt May? She’s better than me. I’m going on patrol,” he hesitated, remembering the suit sitting in his closet, “or something.”

He closed the door before Sam could answer and felt his lungs fill with air that seemed lighter somehow.

  
  


He shouldn't have expected Sam to wait out Peter’s anger, didn’t know why he didn’t think to himself, “In  _what way_  does that seem like something Samuel Alexander would do?”

Of course Sam cornered him and of course he just happened to be Nova, something that just reminded Peter of -- how to tell the team Sam was dead, how to not feel like it was his fault, of course it was his fault, he wasn’t good enough, he wasn’t fast enough, he wasn’t a better team leader, he wasn’t  _smart_  enough -- a lot of things.

“Alright,” Nova said as he hovered a foot above Spider-Man, hands crossed and everything about him screaming  _I mean business_ , “what’s your problem?”

“Problem?” Spider-Man asked, looking around him for escape routes. No matter what he did, Nova was either going to find him right away or just corner him later.

“You’re acting weird,” Nova added, “also Harry threatened me. Do you know how odd it is to hear Venom threatening Nova over Spider-Man’s emotions?”

Spider-Man paused, “Did you just call yourself Nova? As in, third person?”

Nova sputtered, “No.”

Spider-Man laughed, “Oh, you totally did. That’s hilarious. What’s next? Stealing the bank? Not even the money, the whole bank?”

“I wouldn't do that!” Nova defended himself, “I’d do something  _way_  cooler!”

“And that’d be?”

“I’d,” Spider-Man thought Nova was pausing to think about the answer but Nova just turned towards him and said very slowly, “I know what you’re doing.”

Spider-Man shrugged, “I’m doing nothing.”

“That’s exactly it!” Nova stopped floating to plop down in front in Spider-Man, “that’s it! You’re doing  _nothing_. I have no idea what I did  _wrong_  to  _fix it_.”

Oh. Peter hadn’t thought of it like that.

“Just,” Peter closed his eyes, imagining space and Rocket beside him, waiting for Nova to show up, waiting for a sign that his friend -- teammate, someone under his protection and someone he had to take care of -- wasn’t dead for several long minutes (it had to have been over ten but Peter didn’t even remember, he just remembered his hope slowly dying out, remembered his relief at the fact that Sam was alive, remembered Coulson’s disappointed face painted onto the back of his eyelids), “let me deal with my issues. I’ll get over it.”

Nova threw a tantrum, of course he did, he wouldn’t be Sam otherwise. “You’re not a soloact anymore! We’re here to deal with your shit! That’s the point of a team!”

Peter didn’t like that. At all. No, the point of a team was… he couldn’t remember anymore. But he was certain it was in  _one_  of those books he’d had to read.

“Nova,” Spider-Man said pleasantly, “for the last week or so I’ve wanted to punch you constantly.”

It made Nova’s tantrum stop at least, but he didn’t seem as baffled or offended as Spider-Man had hoped he’d be. Instead he seemed to accept it right away and even took off his helmet, but instead of it making him look weaker, smaller, it made him appear tougher than before. Spider-Man had no idea what was going on anymore.

“Okay then,” Sam nodded, “punch me.” Peter wondered when Sam became such a masochist.

At Peter’s inquisitive face, Sam elaborated (wait, Sam couldn’t see that, Peter was wearing a mask, Sam knew him better than expected, huh, who knew), “It’ll make you less angry with me.”

“No, it  _won’t_. In fact, I’m kinda mad at you  _right now_  for asking me to do this.”

“But that’s what you’ve wanted to do all week, isn’t it?”

“That doesn’t mean I’m going to  _do it_!” Peter shook his head, removing his mask so he could look into Sam’s face as he said it, so Sam could see he was absolutely serious about this, “I’m mad at you, of course I am. I’m angry and I’m confused and I’m sad and scared, but you’re  _still_  one of the most important people in my life.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah,” Peter huffed, “oh.”

After a long pause, Sam asked, “Why’re you scared?”

“I,” Peter trailed off, “I’d rather not say.”

“What happened to me being one of the most important people in your life?” Sam teased, Peter knew he was teasing, but some part of brain morphed it into Sam lying in his hands and instead of coming to consciousness , losing it forever.

“You are,” Peter rushed out, “I’m scared about losing you again.”

“Again?” Sam asked, confusion twisting into his expression, “you never lost me.”

“I lost you twice in one day, Sam,” Peter reminded his friend.

“No, you didn’t?” Sam’s expression cleared with understanding, “oh, you’re upset at me leaving for the Guardians?”

“No, Sam,” Peter said sarcastically, “I’m mad that you get to hang out with Groot.” He paused, “Okay, I kinda actually am.”

Sam nodded, “Everyone is.”

Peter shifted from foot to foot, wondering if he’d have the courage to tell Sam the same things he’d told Harry, but decided to just tell him the basics. That’d never hurt anyone. Probably. It had absolutely hurt someone but Peter probably didn’t know them.

He started with, “We were searching for you for over ten minutes, you know,” and almost stopped when Sam seemed to realise what Peter had meant by  _twice_. “And your team, uh,” Peter stumbled, “the Guardians didn’t give up on you but I did.”

“I’m your  _leader_ , Sam,” Peter looked at Sam, hoping that Sam didn’t notice the desperation in his eyes, didn’t notice the way his voice broke, because leader meant  _so many things_  and Peter was just a teenager and he didn’t know if he could handle actually losing one of his team, “it’s my  _duty_  to make certain that you’re safe and happy and healthy and  _alive_. But I didn’t. They did so they’re your real team, you see?

“I was mad and I was scared and I felt a lot of things and I still don’t know if it was towards me or you, I just don’t know and I need to get over them somehow and I can’t do that when you’re around,” he took a deep breath in, as he wasn’t even certain he was making sense anymore, “just, it’ll be better for you to leave me alone for a while. Because I can’t take out my anger on you,  _I can’t_. But I can ignore it until it hurts less, y’know?”

Sam looked a mix between annoyed and fond and Peter didn’t know which was worse. “I’m going to talk to Coulson in the future, it didn’t used to be this bad, jeez,” he muttered to himself.

Peter frowned, confused, “What?”

Sam moved closer to Peter so he could a rest his hand on Peter’s shoulder in a gesture that was probably supposed to be comforting but just confused Peter even more, “When was the last time you slept?”

“Yesterday?”

“And how long was that?” Sam asked.

“Uh, less than three hours, I had patrol,” Peter trailed off, realising what Sam was hinting at. “You think I’m stressed.”

Sam shrugged, “Possibly. You usually forget way easier than this.”

Peter frowned, “I don’t think I’m stressed.”

“That’s what a stressed person in denial would say,” Sam nodded mock-wisely.

Peter laughed, “Shut your mouth.”

Sam smiled and Peter would absolutely blame sleep deprivation if anyone asked, but he leant forwards, kissing his teammate softly, because his brain decided that was a good way to thank Sam.  _Bad_  brain.  (But it turned out okay because Sam kissed him back so, uh, thank you, almost-good brain?)

Breaking apart, Sam immediately opened his mouth and Peter wondered if he should brace himself, "So, on a scale of one to amazing, how--"

Well, that was a no. (Did he really expect anything else with  _Sam_  though? Wait, yes. Yes, he did.) "Seriously, Sam, shut up."

They stared at each other awkwardly for a while (because they were both so awkward, good god, how were they superheroes? How hadn’t they died-- ah, too soon.) until Peter broke the silence, wondering if he was pushing some boundaries by bringing up a conversation that’d already been finished, “It’s not all about me being stressed.”

Sam didn’t look confused so Peter assumed he’d known that at least some bit, but he didn’t seem to realise how  _big_ the whole deal was. How mentally unstable Peter’d become for a short period because, well, it was only natural. Death did tend to do that. (Even not real death.) “You, well, you were all but dead to me for a while and I gave up on you and then I got you back and you left and then you didn’t apologise for lying about leaving.” Peter wondered at what point someone up there would smite him for this whole conversation, he did not want to have it again, oh god. (At what point did a run-on sentence become too much? Because Peter thought he’d done it too much by rambling. And probably overused the word  _and_  around half-way into the conversation.)

Peter could literally see Sam holding himself back from making a joke and wondered if he appreciated the effort or not. A joke would make this conversation easier to manage, but it’d also make it seem less real, more like a dream, a play. Something that wasn’t a part of Peter Parker’s life. (And wasn’t that ironic? Peter Parker’s life seeming made less real with  _jokes_.)

“You know what?” Peter said, putting his mask back on and waiting for Sam to put his helmet back on, “you don’t have to answer. Just… let’s patrol today?”

Nova sighed, clearly giving up Peter not being a workaholic, but was the first one off the building with a yell of, “Last one to Stark Tower has to break in to get something from his fridge!”

“That’s illegal, Nova!” Peter called back.

“So’s my hunger!”

(They ended up being intercepted by the Juggernaut mid-way and neither made it to Stark Tower but Nova claimed he had time to go there and come back, as Peter was very slow. What a liar. Someone  _did_  throw eggs at Peter during the fight but Peter was 78% certain it was just a random New Yorker and not Nova.)

 

* * *

 

Coulson wanted to talk to Peter a few days later. Harry and MJ seemed confused about it, but, well, they were confused about most of the detentions Peter got as well so, yeah. SHIELD business didn’t really allow him to explain that, no, he hadn’t become a problem child because of his new friends.

“Your teammate spoke to me,” he started and Peter refused to look in his direction because he didn’t need to see Coulson’s disappointed face while Coulson talked about what a failure of a leader he was. (This was why he’d wanted to  _stay_ solo! Only his decisions to worry about.)

Coulson didn’t speak again for a long while and Peter glanced at him, making Coulson smile, “I’ll only speak if you’ll look at me. We got all day.”

Reluctantly, Peter watched Coulson’s hands, open palmed on the table, unmoving. Peter thought his were shaking, but he didn’t exactly want to check. “What’s the most important thing about being a leader?”

The answer came automatically, memorised from countless books and training sessions. “Trust your team. Always.”

Coulson leant forward, “Do you?”

“Yes,” the answer came without hesitation.

“Then trust Sam’s decision to come to me.” Coulson didn’t  _get_  why Peter was so uncomfortable but Peter appreciated it nonetheless.

“I do,” Peter nodded, when Coulson didn’t continue speaking.

“I’ll apologise in advance,” Coulson said, “I do not, in fact, have a psychology degree but I did take a few lessons many years ago. I suggested an actual psychologist, but everyone seemed to be in the agreement that that wouldn’t be a good idea for some reason.” Coulson shrugged.

“SHIELD secrets?” Peter suggested.

“We have SHIELD psychologists,” Coulson dismissed, “well. Anyway. This isn’t really about your mental health anyway, it’s more about leadership.”

Peter braced himself. “You’re a good leader,”  Coulson started with, surprising the younger, “you trust your team, you care for them, you want them safe. You do several things that seem hard or unfair  _for_  the team. Those are some good qualities for a leader.”

Peter kind of wished he had any idea what was going on. “You lead them well in battle, which is the most important part to most people in the business, but not to Fury. Or, for that matter, I. A team that doesn’t care for each other falls apart. Yours does and, despite several attempts for members to leave, yourself included, you always get back together because you  _care_.”

Coulson looked at Peter like he was supposed to have some kind of realization about the topic, but didn’t seem disappointed when it became clear that Peter was lost. “I’m saying that a few failures don’t matter. Yes, your teammate did almost die, yes, he was extremely lucky.” Coulson paused, “This is normally the part where I say that that just means that you’ll have to train harder, become better for team but that’s your  _problem_. You overwork yourself, failures happen and your mental health deteriorates.”

Peter wondered if this was supposed to be new information. Just because he  _knew_  didn’t mean he did anything about it. Life as a superhero was hard enough without adding life style changes on top of it all.

Coulson changed tactics, “Being a team leader means taking care of yourself and others. You have the others part down but I’m seeing no  _yourself_.”

Well, that was true. Peter didn’t remember a single day that’d passed since he’d become Spider-Man where he wasn’t, well, Spider-Man.

Coulson seemed to sense that Peter agreed with him on that point, nodding, clearly content. “How about this-- you have to be a teenager once a month and I won’t tell Fury to change the team leader to Ava.”

Peter started to disagree ( _very loudly_ ) before letting out a deep breath. “Once every two months.”

“Listen to your team when they tell you to take it easy, and you have yourself a deal.”


End file.
